By Lance Hartcort
100102.0951
After To The Death, Or Close To It
-=Sibalt=-
100102.0951
After To The Death, Or Close To It
-=Sibalt=-
*This sucks.*
He was never fond of the cold. He preferred balmy, hot, sticky weather where one was inspired to wear as little clothing as possible. Where the coldest thing you had to deal with was the frosty alcoholic beverages that you consumed.
Lance stood with the rest of the crew in the blowing snow as he listened to Zander give out the assignments for the search teams. He was bundled into the warmest jacket that he could find, his hands we covered with a spare pair of socks and he had a tee shirt pull up over his head as a makeshift hood to protect his ears from the biting cold.
He shivered uncontrollably as his teeth clacked together so loud that he had a hard time hearing what the ship's security chief was saying.
*This sucks.*
He wrapped his arms around himself and tucked his socked hands under his armpits in a vain attempt to warm both his body and his hands.
*This really sucks.*
The thought seemed to be the only thing running through his mind as he moved towards Salvek’s team as he had been instructed.
Salvek stopped him short and explained that there had been a change in the assignments and that he needed him to go with O’Sullivan’s team. At least that is what Lance thought he said. Between the shivering and his general distaste for the current situation he was not entirely positive.
*This really really sucks.*
He nodded to Salvek not answering for fear that his chattering teeth would cause him to involuntarily bite off the tip of his own tongue. He turned and walked, zombie-like, over to the small group gathered near Captain O’Sullivan.
As he walked past Zander’s group he noticed that the Security Chief was walking around and seemed to be in good spirits. No hat, or gloves and his jacket was not even zipped up. He then remembered that Commander Blakeslee was from Alaska and was obviously used to this particular kind of weather.
“L-l-l-ukk-k-y Bb-b-b-b-bast-tard.” Lance murmured under his breath as he joined his new search team.
*This sucks.*
“OK. So if we find 'em we need ta make contact with the other search parties. We will assess the situation and go from there.” Keiran was addressing his gathered team.
Cristiane spoke up and the chattering, shaking doctor came to stand next to him. “What about our host? What’s happening with them?” He asked as he shot the rather odd looking doctor a look because the mans teeth sounded like an ancient typewriter.
“For now we have ta assume we are on our own.” O’Sullivan explained. “OK let’s get movin'. Dane, take the lead. Lassiter bring up the rear. We’ll keep the physician in the middle.” The big man smiled at Lance who once again only managed a nod.
The team set off into the snow covered woods as Dane walked out in front and scanned the area. Lance treaded alone wordlessly with his head down. He was grateful to be moving but it was doing little to warm his spirits.
They trudged along the snow covered ground from about 45 minutes before they came to what seemed like the bank of a small river. The water was flowing fast and was spraying over the several large rocks that were partially submerged. Ice was already forming in the areas where the water was calm. The spray had formed a thin layer of ice on the ground near the river bank making footing a little treacherous.
Lance was attempting to read his tricorder and almost walked into Keiran, not noticing that he had stopped.
The doctor's mood had not been missed by the Irishman who had taken note that Hartcort had not made a single comment during the whole time.
“Is ev'ra'thin' OK?” He asked.
Lance looked at the big man and finally lost his composure.
“OK? No sir, no it is not.” He stomped the ground like a child.
Both Gira and Dane who were at the edge of the river and had been discussing a way across looked back at the doctors sudden outburst.
“I am FAR from OK!! I am freezing my nuts off on some god-forsaken back water useless rock of a planet and for what? So we can play games to prove that we can act like a team. I have important work back on the ship that I need to be doing. You know…stuff that will actually HELP people! But nooooo….I am here. HERE!!” He threw down the tricorder. “I have been shot with paint balls, forced to pull on a rope and now test my resistance to the effects of exposure!
“I am a god damn doctor not a freaking ice cube!!” He yelled as he slumped down onto one of the rocks near the water and looked at his hands. “I am wearing a tee shirt over my head like a reverse wedgie and I have socks on my hands…” He held them up to show Keiran. “…my hands have socks on them.” He practically sobbed.
He lowered his head into his sock covered hands.
At first Keiran was speechless. He did not know that doctor personally but knew that the man was one of the best at what he did. A man does not become CMO of a Starfleet vessel at Lance’s age with out being the best. Still that being said because Lance was so young it was possible that this type of adversity was new to the man or he could very well be a prima-donna.
He knew that his wife trusted this man completely so he knew that there must be more to Lance then what he was seeing right now.
He shot Dane and Gira a silent order to continue what they were doing as he approached the doctor and laid a large hand on the doctors shoulder.
“I understand that this is no' exactly what you pictured yourself doin' as a CMO. None of us expected this. There will be plenty of time to reflect on the problems of this assignment when we get back. But for now we have people out there who might be hurt and they need our help. Quite possibly your help in particular. I need to know if I can count on you.” He asked gently.
Lance took a deep breath and sat up. Keiran's calm words broke though his own misery of the current situation. He did not feel any better about anything but he knew that he was not helping.
“Yes.” He nodded to Keiran. “I’ll live. I may lose a toe or two to frostbite and forever walk with a limp therefore resenting Starfleet for the rest of my life, become an alcoholic, and die alone in some little dirty apartment, but I am here.” He smiled weakly. “
“Sorry, about that. Just frustrated.” He stood up abruptly and picked up the tricorder. “Thanks for letting me vent.” He held up his hand and pointed his sock at Keiran. “This still sucks.”
O’Sullivan simply nodded his agreement.
Dane walked up. “I think we found a way across.”
He led the two to the edge of the river and then up the beach for about 35 yards to a fallen tree that laid across the fast moving water.
On seeing the tree and surmising what Dane was suggesting Lance’s shoulders slumped.
*Oh, now this really really sucks!*
Commander Lance Hartcort
CMO
USS Serendipity
CMO
USS Serendipity